Swimmer's Itch
by OuyangDan
Summary: A modern AU set in Michigan and revolving around the lives of some high school kids. Enjoy. The named chapters are prequel chapters, happening a year or so before the events of Chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

He watched her as she crossed the hall from her locker. She pulled a gym bag onto her shoulder, casually swinging a pair of goggles around on the fingers of her left hand. She shook out the tumble of dark hair that fell just to her hips from the hood of the fleece-lined long coat all of the swimmers wore, even when it wasn't terribly cold.

It was the kind of hair a guy could really sink his hands into while losing himself.

He lost himself in that thought for a few moments.

They had one class together, which was odd, her being ahead of him in school, but she'd talked her way into putting off that math class until her senior year, so she sat one seat ahead of him and one row to the right in his Algebra II class.

Not that he'd paid attention.

Of course he _had_. She was sinew and muscle and long limbs on a short frame. She had a smirk that made him think thoughts – really dirty thoughts that sometimes came back to him in the shower at the arena and it was her face he pictured when he would grunt the end of _that_ little fantasy. She hated math, and seldom paid attention, always doodling in the margins of her notebook instead, with a hand in her hair, twisting it over her shoulder. He sometimes imagined that hand in _his_ hair, twining fingers at the back of his head and her mouth running along his throat. That was usually when he would drop his calculator and curse. Now and then she would catch him watching her during the lesson and then lean over and ask him to explain cosigns and tangents and plenty of other things he didn't know much about, but it was nice to be near her, so he would try.

She always smelled faintly of chlorine, and tea tree soap, and something else that was distinctly her and it was always something he tried to inhale without being obvious and keep in his memory. Twice a day, he knew she was in the pool, early and after school, and he always said it was unrelated to the fact that he needed to be in the weight room early now. If he happened to linger by the entrance to the natatorium and see her arching her arms in long strokes up and down the lanes, he couldn't help it. She was just _there_. Propelling herself forward through the water like a greased fish, it was like she was flying. She had the best butterfly in the school, in most of the county at that, and he couldn't tear his eyes away as she would reach the end of the lane and and flip into the kickturn and push back the other way. Sometimes her suit would get bunched up and …

Yeah.

Today, instead of walking straight for the pool, she turned towards him and strode, her hips swinging back and forth slightly as she came his way and _dammit_ if it wasn't all it took to make his pants uncomfortable. She had her face buried in a folder full of paperwork – probably college applications – and he was surprised when she stopped next to him, snapped the folder shut and grinned up at him.

She barely came to his shoulder. She was so tiny, but he'd seen her lose her cool in an argument one day in the middle of the cafeteria. It looked like it had been a pretty brutal break up, and even now he snorted, remembering how she'd knocked the blond quarterback's lunch from his tray and then hit him with it. Her temper could get the best of her, and everyone had been a little surprised when they'd broken up.

She was also terrifying.

"Carver Hawke, right? Third period Algebra?"

He looked at her, disbelief that she was speaking to him in the middle of the hallway. He looked back and forth to make sure he wasn't imagining it.

"S'right."

"I thought so. I'm-"

"Kahrin, I know. I talk to you, like, every day." His voice had a bit of irritation in it, as he reached into the back of his locker for his practice jersey and duffel.

She arched an eyebrow at him. It had a look of sternness, but it swept over her eye, which was wrinkled into that smirk.

"You know? You've never even asked my name."

How on Earth could he not know? Nearly everyone knew her name. She'd been from a very prominent family until her parents' murder. Even then, her popularity alone had made her fairly well-known. Popularity for more than one reason, he'd heard. Not that he put a lot of stock into the rumours that Nate like to spread. The guy liked to gossip.

"I've, uh, been to your swim meets. Some of them. You know. I just happened to-"

"Be there. I know." It dropped so casually from her mouth.

Now it was his turn to be on the back foot. "Really?"

"You stand out. Biggest guy there. Do you even know how to swim?" She laughed up at him, hefting her bag up on her shoulder. "Can a guy like you even float?"

"I, uh … yes. Of course I do." He narrowed his eyes at her. She was suddenly speaking to him like they spoke about anything other than proofs every day. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his Redwings sweatshirt and looked down at her. Way down. "Did you uh … need something? I mean … not that I'm busy, but you know, it looks like you might be …" _Shut up Carver_.

She laughed. It was a really beautiful sound. Deep like the peals of the clock tower in the center of town. Her right eye wrinkled shut just a little. "I'm off to practice, but I was waiting for you to ask me out first." She leaned against the lockers. Actually, it was his locker. She seemed to zero in on it like she knew right where it was and cocked her hip to the side. She swung her goggles around on her finger and looked up at him, big wide green eyes with rings of hazel.

He coughed and ran a hand through his hair, the top of which was pulled back. "I … what?"

"You've been watching me. It's kind of cute. I'm single now, I'm assuming you still are. Pick me up after my meet Saturday."

His mouth dropped open slightly. "What?"

She reached up and pulled on his ear slightly. "These work, right? You'll be at the meet. This time you'll cheer, OK? I'm in a medley, anchor leg. I'm sure you'll think of something fun to do." She paused and tilted her head at him, biting her lip and for just a few moments he had a vision of what it would be like to make her make that face. He used his hands inside his sweatshirt pocket to tug on his jeans in order to make them comfortable again.

Finally he managed a slight smirk. "Ah, all right. I'll be there. Should I, uh bring any-"

"I never get to eat before my first race. How about something warm to drink? I have to go, Carver. Calisthenics start in ten and I have to shower." She took three steps down the hall, then stopped, giving him a look of curiosity over her shoulder before she turned and ran back, grabbed the front of his sweatshirt. "I want to see something, really quick." She pulled him down and kissed him lightly on the mouth, her lips just barely brushing his as she grinned against them. "Don't forget me, OK?"

She turned and ran down the hall towards the athletic wing, her long coat flapping out behind her.

Carver stood there, his jaw dropped slightly, watching her go.

_Don't forget her?_ He was going to have a hard time not thinking about her showering while he was in the shower after practice.

He shoved his History book into his duffel as Nate walked up beside him, an eyebrow cocked at him. "That was an interesting development." He jerked his head down the hall to where Kahrin had just been, then gave him a quizzical look. "Any idea what that was all about? I've never seen you talk to her."

Carver shrugged, staring down the hall. "I uh … think we might be dating."


	2. Chapter 2

It was so early. These things always started early, and she wound her hair into a knot and shoved it up into her cap, yawning. The thick rubber clung to her head in the familiar manner that had once given her headaches years ago when she was just learning, but now was like a welcomed hug. The only hug she received daily any more with Fergus working days and going to law school at night. She pulled the bottom of her Speedo from her rear, slid on her Crocs, and grabbed her coat and towel and sloshed her way out of the locker room.

The natatorium was buzzing with sound that echoed off the ceiling and walls creating a dizzying cacophony, and she scanned the bleachers briefly. She knew she'd find him up there. She'd seen him up there plenty of times before, but this was different. This time she'd sought him out. She asked him to come personally, and she knew he would. She thought about waving, but it didn't seem right with one hand digging at the back of her suit in a losing battle against a wedgie.

She would have had to be living on another planet to not notice him always hanging about. He didn't exactly blend into the background. A guy so tall he had to duck under door frames didn't escape attention, even though he slouched slightly when he walked. He had shoulders she knew came from all the work that no doubt was involved in the chores he did on the farm his family lived on. And that _hair_. She smirked to herself, wondering what it would be like to run fingers through it, if it was as silky as it looked, and if it would look good ruffled up in a mess on top of his head.

It was a _fantastic_ thought.

She'd seen him laugh the day she'd hit Al with his lunch tray. It was more like a snort, really, that she heard over the sudden silence in the cafeteria when she'd started yelling.

She knew he smelled her hair when she asked him for help in class. Honestly he wasn't that much better with balancing equations than she was, but the sound of his breath in her ear gave her a bit of a thrill. She liked that attention. It gave her butterflies, and she certainly hadn't felt that in a long time. At least not in the last two years.

She found his face, up in the back against the wall behind the diving boards, his knees apart and his elbows resting on them. He had on that same red hooded sweatshirt, and a tray from the coffee shop in one hand. His shoulders slouched a bit and he looked a bit grumpy to be here so early. The grumpy face made her laugh to herself. It seemed permanently affixed.

He was the only person who ever came to see her swim, though he'd always sat in the back and tried to avoid being seen. She always saw him. It had made her feel special.

Very special. She had a very special warm and moist feeling that was not the result of the shower she'd just ran through to get her suit damp right now.

She smirked.

The chimes of the signal bell indicated that the home team could begin warmup and she slipped into her lane, the third from the left, and did a slow and languid freestyle, feeling her blood pump faster. She felt lighter in the water, as if gravity was more of a concept and not a law, and her arms were powerful and pulled her faster and faster forward. She saw the familiar "T" on the floor of the deep end and counted the three strokes to the wall, flipped and pushed back the other way. Here, being small didn't hamper her. Here, it was an advantage. Here, she was powerful.

With a quick twist she was on her back and instead of watching the ceiling she tucked her chin and found her eyes scanning the crowd again. She let her eyes drift back to where he'd been sitting and grinned to herself as her limbs pumped the water. She kicked her legs with the familiar pivot of her hips, back and forth, briefly entertaining the the notion of what it would be like to wrap her legs around and use that familiar motion to … and then she looked up to watch the flags over her head, counting strokes until she felt the wall in her fingers.

He had the kind of frame that was earned of lots of manual labour and heavy hours of working out. She'd heard that the scouts at U of M's team had already been watching him skate. All that muscle made her picture him holding himself over her in the back of his pickup as she slipped from the water onto the side of the pool.

It was a vision she planned to revisit again very soon.

She stood and stretched, pulling one arm over her head with the other and popping her shoulder slightly, then bending in half and grabbing her ankles, feeling each vertebrae pop into place. When the announcer called out the numbers of the races she looked down at the permanent marker scrawled across her arm and made her way to the starting platform.

When the tones sounded and she hit he water, her arms windmilling around, she almost swore she could hear a familiar voice yelling her name each time she broke the plane and flung herself forward again.

When she pulled herself from the pool on shaking arms after her last race, which she didn't mind saying she'd won handily, it was the first time she had looked up into the face of anyone who was there to greet her all season.

"Like a hand?" Carver offered her a massive palm down to her, and she refused it at first, but finally let him pull her up easily from the edge.

She stood there dripping, suddenly cold, and only inches in front on him, grinning up into his eyes, like warm honey. "Th-thank you," her teeth chattered together, wishing she'd had thought to lay her coat out at the end. She crossed her arms over her small chest to hide the fact that the cold air was making certain parts of her a bit perkier than she normally cared for.

"Oh, shit, here. It's uh, not warm anymore … and I remembered you said you'd be hungry." He shoved a paper cup of coffee in front of her, and she took it, gratefully. "I uh, don't know how you take it," he flushed a bit.

_Any way you're giving it_. The coffee was dreadful cold, but she drank it anyway, watching the curve of his mouth as he spoke, remembering how his lips had felt the other day. "Straight. I don't really put anything in it." _I'd make an exception for you..._

"Oh, hey, you said you don't get to eat …" He pulled a pastry bag from his sweatshirt pocket and handed it to her. "I never get food there, but the girl at the counter said that-"

It was a scone. Pumpkin. It smelled wonderful.

"I can't eat that." She grinned down at his shoes and noticed him fidgeting with his pants again. She wasn't stupid, and the idea that she had that effect on him was tingling her in all the best ways and she shivered again.

"What? Why not? Oh, crap, are you allergic?" He rubbed his hand over the back of his head.

"No, it's not what Coach would say is precisely good fuel." She was going to eat this if she had to lick it off of … "I tell you what, though," she leaned close to him and slid it into his shirt pocket again, letting her hand linger against him for just a few moments and then drawing it out slowly. "You hold onto that, and I'll enjoy it later."

She knew the look on his face well, and she winked up at him.

"Later?"

"When we leave here."

"You were serious."

"Of course I was serious. Where are we going?" She started shivering again and pulled her goggles from the top of her cap.

"Oh, hey," he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and Kahrin sucked in her breath over her teeth when all he was left with was a very snug t-shirt. He hesitated a moment and pulled it over her head a bit roughly. "You must be freezing."

Wrong time to tell him that she had her very own clothes not far away. She thread her arms into the sleeves and buried her nose into the collar. It smelled like boy. Like shaving cream and what she thought was probably hay and something else that was distinctly him.

"Oh, hey. I'm going to get it all wet." _How fitting_. "And I've never seen you without it." She pulled her cap off and shook out her hair, having gone from swimming in the pool to swimming in the scented folds of his shirt. She flexed her toes against the tiles of the deck and looked down.

His inhale was deep and she drank in the sound. "Then, I guess I'll, uh, have to keep it close." He let out a small bark of laughter. "That really sounded a lot smoother when I thought it."

He pulled her forward by the fabric of the shoulders, wrapping the extra around his fingers. She let out a soft laugh.

"Are you trying to kiss me, Carver Hawke?" She ran her hands up his arms lightly, feeling the hard muscles under her fingers and the goosebumps that rose where she touched his skin. "It was very nice last time. I'd like you to do it again." She stopped her hands just above his elbows, and grinned. "Right now, please."

He hesitated, looking around at the last of the people milling about, as she watched him lean the considerable distance between his mouth and hers. Impatiently, she pulled his face down the rest of the way, and unlike the time before, she did it right this time. She didn't bother with light brushes, but rather pressed her mouth to his and breathed in the taste of coffee from his breath. She rolled his lower lip in between hers and sagged against him for a moment, feeling him suck in a quick breath and his hands sink into her hair.

She pulled back and broke the kiss just enough to grin. "Let me shower and change, and we can get out of here." If she was lucky the other girls would be cleared out of the shower and she could have a moment to relive that kiss all by herself.

When she came back with her clothes on and her bag slung, she was still wearing his sweatshirt and the look on Carver's face said that he was thinking about anything but how it looked _on_ her. The autumn air was brisk, and he actually walked around and pulled open the passenger side door of his truck for her. She cocked her eyebrow, tossed her bag in the bed, and hopped in.

"So, where are we going?" She began peeling an orange because her stomach was growling and he was staring at her fingers as she pulled the bits of pulp from the thing.

"I … uh … it's a surprise." He leaned an elbow against the frame of the truck's door.

"So, you don't have a plan?" She laughed, shoving orange segments in her mouth.

He scowled at her. "I do so have a plan."

She chewed thoughtfully on a few segments, swallowing hard. "Oh?"

"I hope you can skate."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Skate? Like, on ice?"

"Yup." He waited until she swung her legs in, shut the door, then walked around to the driver's side and got in. He cranked the keys in the ignition of the truck, which made the radio blare music that immediately assaulted her ears

"Oh, dear god. You listen to country?"

"I … yeah. So?"

"I never sleep with guys who listen to country."

He popped the clutch and slammed on the breaks, and luckily they were still in the parking lot when it stalled. He sputtered and coughed a little. "What?"

She grinned, and she knew he was now thinking about it, which was good, because she was going to be thinking about it a lot later.

A _lot_.

"Let's go skating, Carver."


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't precisely clear if what the guy from the other team had done could be defined as hooking, but the contact, actual or implied, was enough that Howe subbed in immediately. The guy had a quickness to him that Olympic figure skaters envied as he chased down the offending party, and fought enough to make his favored protege proud. He was even able to use a straight stick. Nate was pretty damned good at making it appear that what he was after was the puck, but as both skaters approached the boards, old number nine Nate reached around, grabbing the man by the shoulders and checked his face into the glass.

Carver never tired of seeing people bounce like that.

Nate was what you called an Enforcer, and he was damned good at his job. A little too good, actually. Two seasons ago his impulse control had gotten him banned from the team for pulling some upperclassmen down with the hook of his stick by the throat and holding him to the ice with his skate.

The other player skid and pivoted on his blades, but before he even reached Howe, Nate had his gloves off and had the jersey of the other player pulled forward over his head and was punching him in the gut repeatedly. The logical progression of that, Carver noticed, was that two other players from the other team thought they'd try their hands at helping their buddy out.

Carver snorted to himself and tossed his sports bottle back on top of the netting of his goal, then pulled his mask back down. The reason that Nate was their Enforcer was because he could handle three guys easily by himself. Carver would have been hard-pressed to think of anyone who had more combined penalty minutes all season so far, and really this was only their third game.

That's when he noticed the basket at the other end empty, and a few moments later he saw their goalie trying to shove Nate to the ice.

When playing Euchre, you had to follow suit, Carver thought to himself, and by the time he was halfway to the guy, his gloves were off and his mask had been flung away.

"Hey, how's about you punch someone your own size, jerk?" Carver glared at him. _Every game_ with these assholes.

"You're serious? My size, you hulkish freak?"

_Oh, how very creative_. "Fine, then. Someone who's decided to hit you first. Ass." Carver whacked him in the back of the head with his stick and then tossed it away, holding the guy by the front of his pads and wailing on him a few times. He dragged him out to center ice, using his height as an advantage and wrapping his arm around his head as he clobbered him before they wound up slamming into the boards. Then Carver piled himself on top of him.

The ice was littered with gloves and sticks.

Five for fighting. That's usually what happened if you were a goalie and had the gall to pull yourself out of your zone for a brawl. He didn't regret anything as he sat on the bench in the penalty box next to Howe who had a ten and two and had come back to the box from the locker room. Their team was now on a power play with no goalie, but Carver was pretty confident they'd never even get the puck to their end.

He turned and bumped fists with Nate as they watched the ref scrape blood off the ice with his skate. "Nice work, man. That was pretty tight. I was almost afraid you wouldn't get your Gordie Howe Hat Trick."

Nate allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up slightly, and spoke dryly. "That guy's been pissing me off all season. It felt good to see his smug face bounce off the glass."

Carver snorted again, and sprayed water on his face from his sports bottle before pulling his mask back on. "Their goalie's such a hack. I've been wanting to get my hands on him since last season. He's always hot-dogging. Guy like that deserves to lose a few teeth."

Nate kicked back and leaned on his elbows against the plexiglass. "Getting your frustrations out?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I saw you signed in here last night with Cousland. What's going on there?" Nate raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a smirk that might have gotten another guy punched.

Carver laughed a short bark. "Honestly? I have no idea. She comes flying out of nowhere at me after like, a whole year and I can't even think straight enough to react."

Nate gave him a look that meant he had an opinion. The only thoughts he didn't share were the ones he kept in that leather-bound notebook of his. "You know she used to go with that douche, Theirin, right?

Yeah. He knew. There were times he'd see them between classes, her in her swimmer's coat and he in his jersey, and carrying her books. He'd push her up against the lockers and it looked as if he'd unhinge his jaw to swallow her whole. To his credit, he never bragged about it whenever they were all in PE, not even when the other jerks from the football team were around and razzing him about it. Carver always got the impression that those guys drew more from what he didn't say, though.

"Yeah. So?"

"I was just wondering if you were subbing in as wide receiver now."

"Oh, Howe, man. Fuck you."

"So that's a yes?"

"That's a 'none of your business', you perv."

"So she shot you down then. Huh. I didn't think she knew how."

"You're not funny, you ass hole."

"I was going for droll. But I see I've failed. I think your penalty is up."

Carver yanked his mask down and pushed his way onto the ice, skidding to a halt in front of his goal, tossing his water bottle into the top of the netting. The next play started and he watched the puck almost distractedly.

Truth be told, he had no clue what was going on. He wasn't even a blip on her RADAR, and then she swept in like this force of nature and just took over most of the voluntary functioning places of his mind.

And a lot of the involuntary.

A lot.

They had come here the night before and while she had plenty of athletic prowess, she wasn't overly gifted on ice. He'd helped her lace the rented skates as she tied her hair up without any of those elastic things. They were lucky they'd had any small enough to fit her, and even then he'd had to loan her a pair of his socks to fill the extra space. Those came up to her knees. She'd just grinned at him with that mouth that he couldn't stop thinking about since she'd kissed him. She looked great in his sweatshirt, small and almost drowning in the folds and the hood. He kept thinking of her in nothing _but_ it, which didn't help his situation when she used his arms to pull herself up and promptly fell into him.

He caught her under the arms as he slowly moved backward, his skates scraping softly on the ice as his feet moved from side to side. He pulled her along carefully, holding her elbows and she clutched his forearms. The grace with which she moved through the water vanished and she clunked forward in choppy motions, laughing with each one.

"I've never felt so awkward!"

"Welcome to my world, then." He grinned a bit, because she always managed, somehow, to make him feel like a stranger in his own skin. Even now, on the ice, where he was more at home than almost anywhere, the feel of her fingers on his skin was making him squirm.

"What are you talking about? You're amazing. I've heard you get around quite well. On the ice."

On anyone else what she did would look like batting her eyes, but she just blinked at him a few times and he switched from one foot to the other, catching his skate on his jean's leg and almost tripping.

She caught him around the waist and held tight, looking up at him.

"Ha. Yes. Uh … I'm a goalie. Everyone thinks we don't skate as much, but it's actually a lot harder."

She giggled softly at that, and when he realized why, he laughed back.

It was like being twelve again.

"Show me all of your mad skills, Carver." She drew her hands forward from around his waist and took his hands.

He relaxed a bit, and cupped her hands in his, swaying back and forth backwards again, pulling her along, watching as her feet began to replicate what he was doing.

After a lap or two around, Carver did a little hop, kicking his back foot out behind him, still holding both of her hands, but now he had one arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little bit closer to his side.

Carver snapped his mind back to the present when he heard the action start getting closer to him. He crouched slightly as the other team sped towards him, sliding the puck along, tucking it neatly from side to side. One of their guys came at him from the side, barreling straight into him and sending him crashing, skates over head to the ice flat on his back, as one of the other team's players grabbed control. He swung around the back behind Carver's net, then arched out wide, pulled back and slapped the shot towards him.

Carver threw himself forward, slamming his knees together and reaching out with his hands, feeling he familiar slam of the puck into his gloves. He held it tight, hopped to his feet, and held it up to show that it was clearly not in the basket as the buzzer sounded the end of the period.

They'd won, and the guys swarmed Carver, pulling on his mask and punching him in the arms. The crowd's cheers were hard to pick out from those of his team, even as Howe gave him an elbow to his padding and pointed to the stands.

There she was, in his sweatshirt, jumping up and down, cheering.

He realized he was blushing, and thankfully it wouldn't be noticeable with all the sweating he was doing, being flushed from the game. He skated over to the glass and watched as she skipped over several bleachers to right in front of him, and put her hand up on it.

"Hey, you! That was a terrific save!"

"I … what are you doing here?"

"I thought that was obvious. I came to see you. I wanted to see all of that fancy skating. I have to say, I like to watch you move." She gave him that smirk again and he was suddenly thankful for all the padding of his uniform.

Carver skated the few feet to the low door off the ice and stepped onto the floor, making the clacking steps towards the bleachers. Kahrin walked along the lowest of the benches until she was in front of him, the extra inches from his skates making their faces almost even. She had a bit of advantage for once, and she actually did put her hands in his hair, and he winced, knowing it was all sweaty.

The feel of her fingers on his neck was better than he'd imagined.

"So, uh … what'd you think?" He swallowed hard and gave her a nervous grin. Skating was as natural as walking to him, and he may as well have been waiting for the Zamboni to run him over.

She didn't answer.

Well, OK. Maybe she did. She leaned over and kissed him, laughing into his mouth.

"Hurry up and do whatever it is you do in the shower, and let's get out of here, OK?" Her smirk broadened as she stood up and released his hair.

Well, in that case, he'd skip that particular part of his regular shower.

"Sure. Why not?"


	4. Chapter 4

If there was one thing that Michigan wasn't lacking, it was sparsely traveled dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for kicking back in the middle of a brisk Autumn night and watching the stars.

That's where the night had started.

Kahrin lay back in the bed of his pickup, gazing up at the clear sky with her hair spread out over his lap. It was a clean enough truck, but it did have that distinct smell of farm, though it wasn't entirely unpleasant. She pulled the front of the sweatshirt of his she still wort and breathed into the collar and finally placed that last fragment of scent she'd been mulling over.

She hadn't washed it yet.

She'd gone to the arena to see him play on a whim, after all he'd come to see her. She'd managed to duck his family in the storm of people. She just didn't have it in her to deal with people's families, and his seemed so _normal_. It was still too hard to watch people function in normal life when hers and Fergus' was still so screwed up. So, she'd stood near the women's washroom and watched as his twin sister and mother had congratulated him.

She propped her Converse-clad feet up on the sides of the truck as he hesitatingly put fingers in her hair. She made an appreciative noise that she hoped would encourage him to continue doing that because it felt so good that she kind of wanted him to grab a handful of it and yank it a bit.

"I … uh, thank you for coming to my game."

"I thought it only fair. Besides, I enjoy a good brawl now and then. Good to know Howe's not the only one who can bloody the ice." She opened her eyes wide and and looked up at him.

He gave her a bit of a startled look. "You know Howe?"

"_He_ might say that. He's more of an acquaintance. Our parents … well. I'd been to his house a few times." She shrugged. They used to all go to the hockey games together her Sophomore year before Nate had been banned from the team. "You really messed up that guy's face."

He snorted. "Oh, that guy's a jerk."

"Yeah, I know." she laughed it off casually.

"You know?" He looked down at her, cocking an eyebrow.

"I met him a few years ago." She shrugged.

"Just how many people have you … uh …"

"A few."

"Just give me a ballpark."

She laughed again. "It's way less than a ballpark, Carver. Don't worry about it. It's really not a big deal."

He was quiet for a while.

So, she changed the subject. She pulled the CD from the pocket of the sweatshirt and pressed it into his hand.

"What's this?" He looked at it skeptically.

"I figured instead of fighting with you about your abysmal taste in music I'd just correct the problem. I made you a CD of some of the basics."

He turned it over to read the back here she'd scrawled the track numbers.

"I'm not listening to anything where a person dresses like a pirate. Just for the record," he muttered as he scanned the list." Kahrin watched his lips move as he read over the names. He had fantastic lips and they were a bit distracting. "OK, now I know this guy dresses like some space pirate, right?"

Kahrin sat up and looked over his arm where he was pointing. "Bowie? No. He's just an ordinary spaceman. But I didn't put anything on there from _Ziggy Stardust_. I thought I would, you know, ease you in." She smirked a bit. "You also seem like a Smiths kind of guy, and everyone needs some Who and Queen."

He looked at her with a prejudicial eyebrow raised. "Aqua?"

"Well, I had to toss something shallow in there. You need to lighten up. Put it in."

Turned out that a little bit of Freddie Mercury on the truck's CD player was enough to inspire his hands to find their way up the back of her shirt. She was having a little Radio Ga Ga of her own on his neck when she felt him intake a quick breath at the realization that being an avid swimmer meant she often eschewed bras.

Facing him on his lap meant she was treated to the full effect of his discovery.

He stopped moving, massive hands against the plane of her back and pulled back to look at her. "What are we doing here?"

"Well, I believe you were about to cross the blue line and then toss me up against the boards." She grinned at him. She was kidding, but only slightly, and happy to show off her hockey knowledge. Her skin erupted in goosebumps as he slid his hands out from under her shirt and the night air chilled it again.

"Until just a few days ago, you barely noticed me, and now you're everywhere."

The side of her mouth curled up slightly. "I noticed you. I _like_ you. I figured the rest just," she paused and looked at him as the song changed on the CD and The Tragically Hip came on, "would fall into place."

He still frowned slightly. "So, what you said yesterday … uh, this isn't just …"

"Just what?" She slid her hands into his hair. It was really nice hair. In all honestly she had been surprised that this hadn't come up sooner. She knew how people talked.

He shrugged and his eyebrows furrowed. "You know, a rebound thing?"

She barked out laughing, then noted how his face seemed to fall a bit, and felt bad. "I'll tell you what, Carver. Why don't you take me home, and you can think about it. Take your time. If you want to see me again, you know where to find me. I'd hate for you to think I was using you, that I had such low standards." Her voice took on a bit of a dark tone at the end.

"No, I didn't mean that … I just …"

"Nah. It's fine." She hopped out of the bed of the truck and onto the ground, pulling the rear of her jeans back into place. She pulled the door open and slid onto the seat.

She heard Carver grumble slightly as he came around to his side of the truck and got in. He cranked the ignition and did a three point turn in the road, heading back to town.

He stubbornly stayed quiet the whole way, she noticed.

He pulled up in front of her house and pushed eject on the CD, interrupting the drum entrance on Baba O'Reilly. Kahrin put her hand on his to still him.

"You keep it. Think it over." She flashed him her smirk and slid out of the truck and dashed up the walk to the house.

It was dark inside, naturally. Fergus never got home until after ten on school nights, and she pulled open the refrigerator, half starving, but found everything needed to be prepared. She pulled out some oranges and sat up at the counter and began peeling one.

She couldn't cook. She'd set the stove on fire the last time she'd tried.

The doorbell ringing made her jump, and it was only when Laica walked in that she realized that she hadn't turned on any lights.

"Kahrin, tell me you aren't sitting here by yourself in the dark." Her pale, streaked blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and she still had on what looked to be comfortable workout clothes. She flicked on the kitchen light as she strolled in as if she knew it by memory.

"Hey, Laica." People didn't get her and Laica. Most people at a glance thought she was really stuck up, but truth be told, Laica was the only one of Kahrin's friends who still came by after her parents had died.

"Oh, my, god, Kahrin. Tell me you are eating more than an orange. You seriously burn, like, thousands of calories a day, and you are eating an orange for dinner? Unacceptable."

Kahrin would probably also starve if not for Laica, some days.

She pulled open the fridge and pulled out several things and began making salads for both of them, chattering away lightly as she did so. Kahrin welcomed the noise as she pulled a folder from her bag and opened it on the counter.

"Thanks, Laica. Fergus won't be home until later."

"Of course." She paused and looked at Kahrin for a moment, seeming to question the wisdom of going on. "Did I see you get out of a pickup?" 

Kahrin looked up from her folder of papers. "Yeah. That was-"

"Hawke. I recognized the truck." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh. That's new."

Laica was quiet for a while as she finished up the salads and dropped some canned chicken on top of them, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"I suppose. He's cool."

"Kahrin, you're just going to wind up right back where you started with Al." She slid the plate across the counter with a fork. "You're going to get close and then it's just going to be about your future and his future."

"I've got this Laica." Kahrin tucked into the salad, more hungry than she'd realized.

Laica leveled her gaze. "Are you boning him already?" She pulled the folder out of Kahrin's reach and started fingering the pamphlets and forms inside. "Have you even told Fergus about this?" Laica held up one of the pamphlets.

Kahrin paused, fork halfway to her mouth. "No. Fergus would … he's under so much pressure. He'll take the bar next year." She stabbed at the cucumbers. "And who knows where Hawke's head is? He makes puppy faces at me all year while I'm with Al, and then we hang out a few times and suddenly, just as things pick up, he wigs out on me." She shrugged.

Laica fluffed her ponytail as she read over the things in the folder. "You have an appointment with them tomorrow?"

"It's just a checkup."

"I can't even imagine, if Sebastian had started missing school randomly and not told me about it," she began, picking at her avocados with her own fork, making that tutting sound she did when she was making an indirect point at Kahrin, "I think I would have been really hurt."

"I don't even think he really likes me as much as he thought he did. He seemed a little alarmed by some of the … names. Or maybe the number. I don't know."

Laica pressed her lips together in that way she had that meant she was trying to be proper. She kept a very well-behaved face forward for most people, being Student Body President and more than likely this year's Homecoming Queen, but Kahrin knew what happened when she went up to Lansing to visit Seb on the weekends. She and Laica? They'd been raised by fairly progressive parents and they _got_ each other.

"I think a lot of boys our age are intimidated by a girl who is confident in her sexuality." She said it very nonchalantly and smoothed a stray strand of hair from her face. That's when her proper face broke and she offered that slightly devilish grin that Kahrin got to see once in a while. "Maybe he'll think better of it and realize that your experience will pay off."

"In a big way."

"Oh, I hope so for your sake."

They shared a giggle, and Laica stood up.

"Thanks, Laica."

"Are you going to be fine by yourself?"

"I am now."

"I'll let myself out."

"Thanks for dinner."

"You can't eat oranges your whole life. For goodness sake, Kahrin, come over some night and let me show you how to make a few things."

"I'll get by."

"Of course you will."

Kahrin waited until heard Laica's VW Beetle pull out of the driveway before dumping the rest of her salad and heading upstairs. She laid the sweatshirt over the back of her desk chair and got down to a t-shirt and underwear, punched her radio on, and crawled into bed.

The house was always too quiet.


	5. Chapter 5

Carver was especially grouchy when he got up for chores. His work load was lighter on school days, so it wasn't an obscene hour, which was good, because he'd had a little trouble calming down when he'd gotten home. He'd actually had to get out of bed to take a shower to work off the feeling of skin on skin and how _frustrated_ he was.

He was so stupid sometimes. He couldn't just keep his mouth shut, when a nice girl seemed to like him. No, he had to go and insult her. Or, he thought he'd insulted her. He didn't mean to. He wasn't sure _what_ had happened, and he swore to himself as he brought in the milk from the dairy barn. One moment he seemed to be doing really well, and he couldn't even believe that he was actually _there_, with his hands wandering wherever they wanted while she giggled softly in his ear. Her mouth was everywhere on his neck all at once and he'd lost the functioning part of his brain that knew it was usually better if he didn't talk sometimes.

He just didn't want to be that guy. The one who got overly excited by attention from a girl and would get worked up over what was going on in his pants and forget to be nice to her. Or be smart about it. He wasn't drawing from a particularly long list of girls who had let him touch them in the first place.

Besides, Saoirse would kick his ass.

So, he did his chores in the early twilight, shaved, showered, again, and made his way down to breakfast, where blissfully his mother had set a plate of waffles out and he could smell more coming. He plopped down on the heavy bench at their breakfast table and grabbed a plate. He forked three onto his plate and tucked in as Bethany strolled in, fussing with her hair and wearing a skirt that he was pretty sure was entirely too short for any sister of his to be leaving the house in.

He had a little bit of an idea what guys were like.

"You need to go change. Don't let Dad see you in that." Carver snorted at her around a giant mouthful, and she turned on her heel and glared at him.

"Says the brother of mine who slunk into the house after nine last night. Where in the wor-" she stopped and narrowed her eyes at him, then walked two steps closer to him then yanked on the collar of his sweatshirt before he could swat her hands away. "Carver Maurevar Hawke, is that a hickey?"

He dropped his fork on his plate and smacked her hand away, and Bethany grabbed him by the ear and yanked him to the dining room.

"Ow! What's the matter with you?" There wasn't a lot of resemblance between them for being twins. She was a lot shorter than he was, and her eyes were much darker, but she was stronger than she looked. "Get off my ear!"

"Who's the girl, Carver? Oh, my god, Mom is going to flip. It's huge!"

"Not if you keep your mouth shut." He caught her wrist and hissed at her. Shit, she had a big mouth sometimes. How had he missed that? He felt along his neck as if he expected it to be some obvious lump.

Bethany laughed in that mocking tone of hers that was so damnably like Saoirse sometime and she poked him right where his neck and shoulder came together below his ear. "She got you good. You're going to need a higher collar to get that past Mom and Dad." She paused and fixed him with dark eyes that almost hid her pupils for a moment, and then let out a squealy, gasp of a girl-noise she made sometimes when she got overly excited about gossip.

"Shut up, is it that bad?"

"Grace wasn't lying. Oh, my, god, she said she saw you at the hockey game kissing some girl, but I didn't believe her, because it's not like you would ever get up the nerve to talk to a girl let alone …"

"I said shut up." He turned and started stalking up the stairs, pulling his sweatshirt off as he went, and she tailed him right up. "It's none of your business."

"Oh, no you don't." She wasn't even deterred when he slammed his bedroom door in her face. She just shoved right on in as if she owned the room herself and plopped down on his bed. "Saoirse's going to flip, you know. Oh, my god, Carver, are you having sex?"

He rounded on her, a button-down shirt in his hand. "I said shut up. Shit, Beth, you are so … so …" He grunted. "Get out."

"Make me." She stuck out he tongue at him.

He glared at her for a few moments, and she raised a challenging eyebrow at him, playing with the thin scarf she had wrapped around her neck.

"I hate you so much." He stormed out of his room and down the stairs, hollering over his shoulder. "We're leaving for school in ten minutes, dear sister."

It had been the longest damned ride to school of his life. Bethany hadn't shut her trap, and she was a tumult of questions the whole time, trying to parse through his words and figure out who the mystery Hoover was.

"I'll just ask around. You're not exactly sneaky, Carver. Someone, I'm sure, saw you." She flipped the latches on her flute case in time with the music, then looked at the stereo. "Where'd you get this? Since when do you listen to old music?"

"Shut up. A friend gave it to me." He really wished she'd fall out the door.

"A friend, or a _girl_friend. Carver, why are you being so cryptic?"

"I'm not, it's just none of your business."

"It's always my business. With Saoirse at school one of us has to keep the vultures off of our fine brother. Only the best for you." She slugged him lightly on the arm.

He smirked a bit. Saoirse was always roughing up girls that she thought were getting too cozy, and Bethany did her best to annoy them to death.

No wonder he had no idea how to talk to them. Or not insult them.

"It's nothing, Beth, OK? I don't think it's working out, anyway."

"Well, then she's stupid." The jewel case from the CD slid out from under the seat, and since he was driving he couldn't stop her from grabbing it. "She has odd taste in music."

"It's not that odd. Some of it's all right."

"Aqua, Carver? You're letting a girl who listen's to "Barbie Girl" leave marks on your skin. Seriously?" She turned the case over and opened it. "Hey, wait a second. Isn't this that Cousland girl? Is _that_ who did that to you? Karen? The one who beat up the-"

"Hey, put that down. It's Kahrin, and I said it's none of your business."

"Ooh, so defensive. Excuse me. Anyhow, I heard that she and your friend, Howe, used to-"

"Do me a favor and just shut up and never talk ever again." He pulled into a parking space and hung his permit over the mirror. "Get out. I have practice tonight, I'll pick you up after."

"I have Monday night band rehearsal. I'll have Grace drop me off. So you can go find your girlfriend. You know Mom's going to find out and then insist you bring her home."

"She won't find out if you keep your trap shut. And she's not … just shut up, Bethany."

He slammed the door shut and grabbed his hockey bag and she pulled her flag from the back and followed him inside to their lockers.

He had, actually been mulling it over. Carver had been a bit of an ass and had decided he'd apologize when he got to Algebra.

"She's not here today." The smooth, dry voice from behind him could only be from one person, and Carver turned around just in time to see Howe tucking the small moleskin notebook into his shirt pocket as he leaned against the lockers, propping one boot-clad foot against them for balance. The man was seriously wearing black leather pants. The shit he could pull off.

"What?"

"Don't play stupid, Hawke. It doesn't become you. It just _appears_ to be your default state. I stopped to pick Kahrin up for school this morning and she wasn't there." He shrugged almost imperceptibly. "I thought you'd like to know. Her brother said she left early for an appointment."

"Why would I care?" Carver grumped at him and tried to look disinterested.

"Well, for starters, you took off pretty quick after the game yesterday, and also, I am going to presume that you didn't meet any other girls who would have left such fascinating illustrations of a tale I'm certain to hear about later all along your neck between then and now."

"Shove off, Howe." He started walking towards his first class, and Howe fell into step next to him. "You told me you knew her, but you didn't say you, uh _knew_ her."

Nate raised an eyebrow at him now. "I didn't say I did or didn't. And, honestly, does it matter one way or another?" He flicked the pages of a stack of choral music. Nate's father was a judge with government aspirations, and similar ones for his twin sons, Nate and Ciaran. They were expected to behave, act and dress a certain way. While Ci never did anything in the vicinity of adhering to what his father wanted, Nate liked to walk a careful line of putting on the appearance of towing the family expectation and subtly eschewing it altogether. He looked every bit the part of the Dartmouth hopeful that his father wanted him to be, with his button-down shirt and dark pants, but the band logo Carver didn't recognize on the t-shirt he wore under it undid the image. So did his tendency to solve all of his conflicts with his fists.

Nate was supposed to have the right extra-curriculars and the right grades … instead he started fights on the ice and sang in show choir – poorly. He was in the drama club and drank PBR on the weekends with his twin and the redhead from the private school in the next town that Ciaran was always with.

"I guess … not. No." Carver tapped the binding of _The Grapes of Wrath_, which he hadn't read, against the door frame to his English-US History block.

"Then, it didn't matter if I mentioned it or not." His mouth turned down in a bit of a scowl. "Rendon is going away this weekend and my ever-brilliant twin has decided that our home is entirely devoid of drunken people who might break all of his prized possessions. You should come, Hawke. She'll be there." He shrugged again. "Or you could invite her."

"I don't know …"

"I leave it to you, but the offer stands. It might be nice to have people there I actually do not dislike." He walked off then, his boots making an odd click in the hall as he went towards the music corridor.

Carver took his usual seat in the back of the room and flipped open his novel, hoping to skim enough information for the discussion today.

It bothered him that he wouldn't get to talk to her. What kind of appointment kept you out of school all day?

That was going to bother him. More than why the turtle on the side of the road in this damned chapter was relevant to anything in the rest of the book.


	6. Chapter 6

She was grateful for the ride.

She and Fergus only had the one vehicle between them, and he usually used it. It had been their parent's SUV, and it was a hybrid, so between the two of them they called it the Smug UV. Since Fergus had the job and night school, he needed it, so he usually drove the Ford.

So, when Senior Chief Duncan picked her up really early, Kahrin climbed in the front seat with her backpack, a couple of oranges and a hard boiled egg.

The drive was about two hours, and the Senior Chief tried to fill it with casual banter. He asked her about her grades, which were fair. He asked her about the swim team, which she liked talking about, but it made her a bit uncomfortable.

The coach from U of M had been at one of her first meets of the season. He'd been impressed with her butterfly, both technique and speed. They'd invited her to swim for them for the chance at a scholarship for the following fall.

She'd received a partial one, too. It was a fair amount for four years, but not enough. She knew that between what Fergus could bring home, and the trust left to the two of them, they'd never be able to afford the difference.

So, Kahrin had looked into other options, and the Navy had offered a few. She took the ASVAB and scored in the nineties, but she didn't need to blow the test out of the water to get the job she wanted.

Rescue swimmer.

She'd brought the idea up with Al once over the summer, who had laughed and kissed her as if she had asked him what they wanted to do on Friday instead of after graduation.

"I thought we were going to both go to Ann Arbor, Kahr," he'd held her head in his hand and gave her an odd look. "What happened to us going together?"

"There's just not going to be a way. Fergus and I can't afford it, and I won't have time for a job with swimming."

"We'll find a way. I can't imagine going without you. I'll need you there if I'm on the team. If you're off in the military, I'll never see you again."

He was almost guaranteed a spot on the football team there or at least a red-shirted position for the first year. No matter how many times she tried to get him to understand that, he didn't get that even if she was there with him, she couldn't spend all of her time with him like she did now. A swimming scholarship was a lot of work.

His plucky attitude about their future together wasn't going to be enough to get through this.

He also never really wanted to talk about it. He wasn't mean or cruel, and she doubted he knew how to be, but he was painfully naïve about what her life was going to be like when she left the folds of the home she and Fergus had made. She would try to bring it up, because they had been together so long, and it was fair to him to talk about next year. Somehow they never got to the talking part and usually wound up at the part that involved a lot of grunting because their mouthes were too busy, and eventually one of them sleeping. Usually not her.

He had been with her when her parents had died, and that made it so much more difficult to get angry with him. Her friends had drifted off one by one, and really all she'd had left were him, Laica and Howe.

They didn't speak so much anymore.

She'd brought all of her medical forms and requested information. The counseling that she and Fergus had been through after the incident required further documentation, so she had it. Apparently they were concerned she might snap under training or something. There was a counselor's report from the day she had beat Al with his lunch tray and stormed out of the school. Well, not _out_ so much as up to the roof where she'd sat until finally Laica had come to find her.

The corpsman looked it all over, then directed her to a stall with a curtain to get undressed.

At least she'd remembered a bra today.

They poked her and checked her over, made her touch her toes and walk like a duck crouched down low. She was dextrous enough that it was relatively painless if it didn't make her feel a bit foolish. Once they ensured that her spine was in line well enough and that she wasn't going to punch an Admiral in the face, Kahrin was allowed to put her clothes back on, pee in a tiny cup, and was herded off to talk to the representatives.

"You're small for a rescue swimmer."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you even know how to swim?"

"Everyone in the Navy knows how to swim."

"Can everyone do the one-hundred butterfly in under a minute?"

The Petty Officer looked at her with a flat expression. "That's not the point. Look, we have limited boatspace for females as it is. I can give you …" he shuffled through some papers, then clicked on his computer before pulling out a file and sliding it to her. "Postal Clerk. It has guaranteed transfer into the civilian world."

"I'm not going to pick a career based on how well it will fit in the civilian world." Her recruiter silently face palmed behind her as her voice rose, but in all honesty, what did she know about military rank and structure? She was a civilian. "I scored a ninety-fucking five on your entrance battery, and I'm the best swimmer for three counties. I'm not taking Postal Clerk and sorting mail for four years."

She slid her chair out and turned to the door. Her stomach knotted. This had been her _only_ plan.

Perhaps she could just get a job in Ann Arbor somewhere, take Al's advice on all of it … but she had to make it look like she was prepared to walk out.

"Well, we're sorry you feel that way. We don't have much else for females right now." The Petty Officer shrugged as a Master Chief strolled by the office, who then turned in and cleared her throat.

"We can sign her something else in a related rating and hold the boatspace, and then send the paperwork to get her what she wants. We have plenty of Aviator ratings that I think she would find amenable." The blonde woman crossed to the desk in her impeccably pressed khaki uniform with her combination cover tucked under one arm, and pulled up another file and placed it in front of Kahrin. "How would you like to work on a flight deck?"

So, when all was said and done, Kahrin settled on a contract for an Aviation Boatswain's Mate, as a launching and recovery specialist. Snapping planes off of catapults and nabbing them with wires sounded like an adequate second job, and it was in the ballpark of what she wanted to do. There was the chance to get picked up as a rescue swimmer either before then or after arriving at basic. She had another appointment to come down before graduation in the Spring anyhow.

Believe it or not, this had been the easy part. Kahrin had autonomy over her decisions as an emancipated minor since their parents' death. Fergus had insisted upon it while he was at school and work in case of emergencies.

She was sure he hadn't meant for her to use that freedom like this.

The difficult part was going to be discussing it with people, telling them.

The Senior Duncan drove her home, and she spotted the pickup while the man had just turned onto her street.

"Pull over here, please. I'd like to walk." They pulled over and she thanked him for tolerating her outburst, and grabbed the small backpack that she'd carried her things in that day.

Her Converse hit the pavement with light thuds as she ran up the road to the green Chevy where Carver had the driver's side window rolled down and was wrinkling his forehead at his copy of _The Grapes of Wrath_.

"You can pretty much skip every other chapter and get the gist, you know. If you want, I still have my notes upstairs. You can come get them."

She'd startled him and he dropped the book into his lap. "What?"

She smiled, relieved to see him. She didn't think he'd come back. "The seemingly random chapters, they're called inter-chapters, and while they're important, you can follow the plot without reading them."

"Really? That's good, because they're really boring."

Kahrin smirked at him. He didn't have to say anything else. She dashed around the front of the truck and slid in the passenger-side door and across to the middle of the bench seat. She couldn't help grinning when she recognized "Girl Afraid" on the player.

"You're still listening to this. Have I converted you?" She snuggled closer under his arm to read along in his book.

He did something that might pass for a grin, and tugged on his sweatshirt hanging on her like a tent. "And you're still wearing this." He paused for a few moments. "I, uh … wanted to say I'm-"

"I'm over it. Really. I just needed you to be over it." She leaned up and kissed his jaw and smiled. "And here you are."

"I didn't see you at school today. I just, uh, needed to make sure you were …"

"I had some big, important senior-y stuff to handle. Nothing major."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Did you get to go up to tour the campus today?"

"Hmm. Something like that. Is your book so fascinating? I can tell you now, Hemingway also didn't believe in happy endings."

She heard the book hit the floor of the truck when she put her mouth to his, and he circled his arms around her.

"Watch the neck this time, OK?" Carver laughed a bit as he laid her back on the seat of the truck.

She smirked. "Sorry about that. Not exactly, I mean, it was a lot of fun doing it, but, you know. I hope you didn't get any crap." She shifted herself under him and pulled his shirt free from his pants.

"Nothing I can't, uh, handle."

She thought she should tell him where she'd been all day, but this whole thing was new, and right now she just wanted to be near a person who wasn't making demands on her beyond how much skin he could grasp in palms. She didn't want to scare him off with the possibility of her leaving, and she wasn't so sure she was ready to include another person in her scheme.

Not that he was demanding. He was actually hesitant, and wearing a bra to MEPS was clearly putting a barricade on the situation.

She unhooked her foot from around his leg. "Look, I have notes upstairs if you want them, and it's more comfortable inside than it is here. No stick shift digging into my thigh."

He coughed into her neck, and laughed. "All right," he sat up and opened the driver's side door, and stumbled out, adjusting his jeans. "Uh, lead on."

She smirked at him and slid out of the truck on his side, dragging her bag behind her, and walked up the walk towards the door. She put the keys in to unlock it and inhaled sharply with a laugh when hands slid around her middle, grazing the bare skin of her abdomen. She pushed through the door, him stumbling after her with his nose buried in her neck, and suddenly she couldn't remember what they came inside for.

Or maybe she had.

She pulled him by the collar up the stairs to her room, and when they crossed past her door he pulled at the waistband of her windbreaker pants with what felt like a little more confidence. She fumbled at his waist and pulled him closer and as his weight fell against her small frame they both fell back on her bed. Laughing.

Shoes and pants came off easily enough and there was no rush, she told herself and he also seemed in no great hurry. He ran a hand up her tan thigh and rested it on her hip and she scooted back, looking him in the face and grinning.

"Top drawer."

"What?" He looked at her, frozen and confused for just a moment. "Oh. Uh, right." He flushed and backed up away from her, heading to the tall dresser, and she reached down and turned on her radio, which still had an Oasis CD in it. There was worse mood music than the Gallagher brothers.

He came back with his prize from her sock drawer, and their mouths met again, hard this time. He kneeled over her, hands in her hair and she took the condom from him, laughing slightly and giving him a look.

"If you don't want to-"

He laughed. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack."

He reached a hand around her head and kissed her again and she lavished in the feel of weight against her.

"Kahrin?" The voice yelled up from downstairs and Carver bolted off the bed. "Is someone here? I'm home early."

"Shit." He started pulling on his pants, and she ran a hand through her hair, catching her breath and dropping the still unopened condom to the floor.

She swung her legs around and grabbed her pants and slid into them. "Sounds like Fergus is home from class early." She laughed, a little embarrassed. "I, uh, I'll get you those notes." She caught her breath as she pulled a folder out of her desk, mouthing "wow" silently while his back was turned sliding on his sneakers. She could hear him grumbling softly to himself.

"I'm uh, I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Just a minute, Fergus, we'll be right down." She looked at him, and smiled. "For what, Carver? You did nothing wrong."

She grabbed him by the arm, pushed the folder to his chest, and pulled him to the stairs and down to the kitchen.

Fergus looked up from the refrigerator, then grinned at his sister. "I see you have company. I hope I didn't interrupt."

"Ha. Shut up. This is Carver, and he was here to borrow some of my notes."

Fergus gave them a knowing grin. "Is that what they're calling it now? I kid." He gave Carver a firm handshake and Kahrin kicked him in the shin.

"I hate you sometimes. Carver just came to ask me to a party this weekend, didn't you?"

Carver gave her another questioning look. "How did you know?"

She gave him her smirk.

"Right, at the Howes. I heard." Fergus grinned. "Well, I just hope you two are safe." He looked in the fridge again and closed it, going for the phone instead. "Who wants pizza?"


	7. Chapter 7

Carver leaned against his goal, tapping his stick lightly on the ice and squinting slightly against the glare. Their left-wing dug the puck out from along the boards and slid back behind the net, looking for a better position before he pulled back his stick and went for the shot - just as a defenseman from the other team plowed straight into him.

Howe subbed in.

In his usual move of brashness he went straight for the other defenseman and ran his shoulder into him before turning around and cross-checking him into the glass. The gloves were flung, punches were thrown, and the next thing anyone knew Howe was sitting smugly in the penalty box again, skates crossed and elbows leaning back against the glass.

Most days he didn't have the decency to look like he regretted anything.

After the game Howe pulled on his team sweats and grabbed his bag. He never used the showers at the arena, and swore it was to give the other guys a chance at some self-esteem. He shouldered his bag, still holding onto his stick, and gave Carver a raised eyebrow.

"I'll be seeing you later, then, Hawke?"

Carver pulled his shower bag from the locker and gave Nate a look. "How is it that everyone seems to know more about my life right now than I do?"

Nate gave him a bit of a smug smile and an overly dramatic bow. "Welcome to your life with Cousland in it. You'll find you are always scrambling just to stay three steps behind her."

At least the view would be nice.

"Oh? And how do you know so much?"

Nathaniel gave him a non-committal grin. "We've been friends a long time, Hawke. Trust me, she has a way about her."

He was so cryptic sometimes. Carver shook his head as Nate left the locker room, and then he took his bag into the shower.

The other night at her house kept flashing through his mind in slow motion, right up until the part where Carver learned that he was able to move very fast if he wanted to even without skates. He'd almost caught himself in his zipper; he'd been so panicked to just get his clothes back on, and as it turned out, it was not really a huge deal. Kahrin's brother turned out to be pretty cool, and had only made a few pointed jabs over pizza.

Just before that, though, it had been amazing, with her fingers on his skin and the look on her smirking face and he'd never been _that_ close, to anyone.

He leaned his head and one hand against the wall of the shower stall to brace himself, and let a strangled noise from his throat, before he finished washing and shut off the water.

She was lying back on a bench in the stands, her feet flat on the floor on either side, staring up at the ceiling and absently braiding her hair when he came out of the locker room. He leaned against the glass and watched her for just a few moments while he pulled the top of his still-wet hair back, smiling slightly. Had she been here the whole time?

Her eyes opened all the way and she looked up at him through the lashes. "Hey! You take forever in the shower, you know." She had her head pillowed on his sweatshirt, and was wearing a fitted polo tee that didn't quite meet the waist of her jeans … which sat low on her hips, hugging her down the thighs to where they flared out from her knees, creating a curve that led all the way down to the brown Docs on her feet.

He realized that he'd just followed that train of thought with his eyes and she grinned at him.

She pulled a coin from her pocket and held out her hand to him, and he walked over and took it from her.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I … no. I mean, you look nice. That's all." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We should probably get going, then."

She stretched slowly before sitting up, swinging her feet around and pulling his sweatshirt over her head again, then dragging the length of her hair out of the collar.

"You always look so nervous around me. I'm not going to eat you, I swear it. Not yet. I'm full up on popcorn right now." He shuddered slightly as she looped her arms around his waist and found his back pockets, sliding her hands into them slowly. She looked up at him with her large eyes and the chill he felt in his spine and stomach when he used to watch her in Algebra came slamming back to him.

It was a feeling he never wanted to forget. Carver dug his fingers into the mess of her hair and bent down and kissed the top of her head. "It's just new, and you're a bit overwhelming."

"You sure know how to flatter a girl, Hawke."

He furrowed his brow and looked down at her. "That's not what I … stop that. You're trying to fluster me on purpose."

"I would never." She feigned a scandalized face, then laughed and released his waist so they could walk out to his truck.

Rendon Howe was a rather unfriendly man of refined tastes, and his home was practically a personification of him, a fact Nate had always stated with a smug smirk on his face. To put it into words Carver would use, the guy liked to flash his big importance all over the place. It showed. The place was like a damned castle, built of blue-grey brick and towering up three stories. It had a wrought-iron fence around the perimeter of the property, and had a code box with one of those cameras for identifying guests. There was music that Carver didn't recognize blasting on the Bose system when they walked up the front path towards the house.  
>"So, what, do we buzz and have someone let us in?" He didn't have any clue; he'd only been to Nate's house one other time.<p>

Kahrin shook her head with a chuckle and then punched in a few numbers from memory. The gate swung open, as if it were a portcullis drawing up to admit them.

The inside of the house was just the way Carver had remembered it from a couple of years ago. Everything was made of stone and it just looked cold. The entirety of the contents from the photographs to the people living inside it were always arranged neatly, like the place was a museum. It didn't have any of the lived-in comfort that his own house had, or even the Cousland house. There were absolutely no socks on the floor by the door, no duffel bags in the entryway, and barely a thing on the walls, save a large black shield with a bear on it hanging over an archway in the foyer.

Nate said they should use it for sledding this winter.

Carver began to take his shoes off. The stone floor was highly polished and he didn't want to scuff it, but before he could pull them off, a a dry voice that sounded similar in timbre to Nathaniel's interrupted. "Don't bother." When Carver looked up, the face was nearly a match to his friend's as well. "Either the cleaning crew will rebuff it out or Rendon will have a coronary when he gets home. We can't lose either way."

Ciaran and Nate were the spitting image of one another, Ci having only a scar above his eye that made them physically different. They carried and groomed themselves almost in contradiction, other than a shared penchant for black, Ci preferring a plain three-quarters shirt and jeans to the extremely... manicured ensembles Nate seemed to prefer. They always made Carver a little glad that he and Bethany weren't identical twins. No one ever expected them to look alike.

"Kahrin," Ciaran nodded once at her and she gave him a casual shrug back.

"Ci." She threaded her fingers into Carver's and lead him into the empty living room, then looked around, pulling him gently towards an adjacent room where a large white leather sofa was bookended by two red-haired girls Carver didn't recognize. There seemed to be about a dozen other people, milling around and not paying attention to anything but their own conversations.

One of the girls on the sofa was folding animals from the paper napkins lying around, and the other had her feet kicked up and was reading some music magazine with a mess of mop-headed men on the front he didn't recognize and probably never would. She looked up once, narrowed her eyes, and pulled the magazine closer to her face.

"Rowdy bunch you have here," Carver said wryly to Ci, who managed a shrug and a smirk.

"Yeah, well, this is Slania, my girlfriend," he said as he chucked her on the arm, making her drop the paper bear she was perfecting, "and her cousin, Alia. We used to go to school together. Well, I guess we do again, now." Slania shot Ciaran an unamused look.

Kahrin leaned against Carver with her back to him, crossing her arms. "At the prep school? I thought I would have remembered anyone from there."

Carver remembered that the Howe twins used to go to the fancy prep school the next town over. Nate was thrown out shortly after he was banned from the hockey team for "not projecting the proper image".

From behind the magazine he heard some snarky quip about it being difficult to see people when your nose is stuck high in the air, and Kahrin scoffed slightly.

"You went to school with Nate?" Carver looked down at her.

"For a while. Fergus gave me the choice after … it was up to me."

"She couldn't stand the days without me," Nate added, drolly as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister in leather pants and a button-down shirt, with another band shirt under it. Pelican or some of that obscure shit he liked.

"You wish. Besides, it's hard to miss someone during the day when you see them every night, you ass." She raised an eyebrow high at him, and Carver decided, once again, to just not ask.

It seemed safer with those two, more of a need to know sort of thing, and he really didn't.

"Why don't you give Carver the official tour, Cousland? I'm sure he's more interested in your opinion on the place than mine." Nate rolled his eyes slightly and gestured at the staircase behind him with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

"It would be my pleasure," she mock-curtsied back and took Carver's arm and began to pull him along. "They actually have a room called a solarium. It makes more sense during the day, though."

"Kahrin?" Nate raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, love?"

"Stay out of Rendon's room."

Carver noticed she gave Nate a dark glare and turned, pulling him along. They wandered through the kitchen, which was all black surfaces and shiny chrome everywhere. It had one of those magnetic strips along the wall where all the sharp prep knifes hung. It didn't look like a person had ever breathed in it, let alone prepared a meal. Completely out of place was a giant laundry tub full of ice overflowing with cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The Howe kids knew how to entertain.

They bypassed the beer. He'd driven and she seemed uninterested. "The dining room is amazing. You pretty much need a megaphone to ask someone at the other end to pass the potatoes. Not that Rendon would ever let his chefs serve anything as pedestrian as potatoes. Replace that with any fancy food you can't pronounce and you get the idea." She looped her arm around his waist and looked up at him. "You don't really care about the laundry room, do you? This place has three stories and five bathrooms. Let's go upstairs."

He hooked his thumbs into her jeans' pockets and followed her up the first flight until the landing where the stairs turned, and pushed her gently against wall. "You didn't come here to show me the architecture of the house."

"No, I didn't." The side of her mouth turned up slightly, and he leaned down and gave it a light kiss. "Good. C'mon, I'll show you my favorite room."

Carver didn't know how he felt about this being her favorite room. "Didn't Nate say not to …"

"Hush, you. It has the best sound system, and there's a television that comes out of the wall. He uses it for boring stuff like watching the news and CSPAN, but it's great for a _Star Wars_ marathon."

She flopped on the giant four-poster and kicked off her shoes before casting about for something, finally finding it on the bedside table, and pushing buttons. Doors moved aside and revealed a large flat-screen, and she flipped a few channels until she found one that was just playing classic rock. He was getting to where he could identify a few of the bands she liked, and was pretty sure the riffs coming out of the speakers were The Who.

"You come to parties to watch movies?" He leaned a shoulder against the post and raised an eyebrow at her. Even he wasn't that dense, but he humored her with a slight smirk.

"No." It was a simple answer, and she stood up on the bed and carefully made her way over to him, trying to keep her balance with her arms spread out to both sides. His eyes went to the gap in her shirt and pants that showed off the slight curve of her stomach, and he forced himself to look back up at her face. She slid her arms around his shoulders and grinned. Suddenly his jeans were awkward and a bit uncomfortable.

"I see." He wrapped his arms around her waist, the icy tingling feeling dropping his stomach like it always did when his fingers brushed that place at her back and against her skin. He curled them up and tickled a bit where her jeans and shirt didn't quite meet and enjoyed the way it just felt so warm. He slid his hand up her back and pulled her closer, and then his whole hand was warm.

"This was pretty much my plan. You caught me." She caught him by the mouth and wound her fingers into his hair again. She laughed, losing her balance as he shifted his weight and leaned into her kiss, and they fell over onto the fussily embroidered coverlet.

He pressed something into her palm. He felt a bit foolish, but maybe it would come off as cute. He never knew. He'd blown past the entirety of his experience with girls about three encounters ago.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He felt his face light up a bit red.

She eyed the same coin she'd given him earlier. "I hope you have a lot of pennies, because I have a lot of thoughts. The first being that we should pick up where we left off, now that my brother isn't here to make you jump out the window."

He laughed, suddenly nervous and having no idea what to do apart from cradle her head and kiss her again. When her hands fumbled at the button and zipper of his pants he heard a soft groan, and only realized a few moments later that it had come from himself.

As he slid hands into her pants, she shimmied out of them, pushing his jeans away from him with her feet. He paused then, leaned his forehead against her mouth and asked softly "Are you sure?"

There were hands on his hips, fingers grazing his skin, and somehow the softest of touches made his toes curl up a bit and his hands shake more than his voice. She nodded up at him, big, wide, green eyes.

"Yes."


	8. Chapter 8

It was always so cold by the time homecoming rolled around. Kahrin was positive that whoever had invented the tradition had not, in fact, been a fellow Michigander. People here knew that they had to buy Halloween costumes that fit over snowsuits. The marching band was used to practicing in thick mud one night and performing on frozen ground the next day. The cross country team all owned matching tights for under their shorts, and the swimmers actually snapped up their fleece-lined coats. Wearing dresses in the middle of a football field was just... ridiculous.

The only good thing about this whole night so far was that Kahrin's low heels didn't sink into the grass as they lined up, shivering, along the edge of the field waiting for halftime. Her bare arms and shoulders erupted in gooseflesh as she ran her hands over them trying to keep warm, and she was suddenly grateful that there was a half inch of padding in the front of her dress helping her fill it out, otherwise she might have looked like a Thanksgiving turkey ready for the table.

She startled as two cold fingers pushed the hanger loops back into the open back of her dress, and Laica tsked at her slightly. "For crying out loud, Kahrin. If you're going to spend money on such a gorgeous dress you could at least mind your posture. Those shoes only add so much height."

Kahrin smiled at Laica and shook her head slightly. "You look nice too, Laica." She reached up and deftly tucked one of her friend's blonde curls back into the elaborate coronet. They were both a little wind blown from the parade, but it seemed that Laica had used enough hairspray to stop a bullet.

"Turn around and let me smooth your curls down, Kahrin, so it's not so frizzy."

"What would I do without you?"

"Starve, mostly, and be a walking fashion emergency." Laica said it without missing a beat and gave her a very sincere smile, the kind that really, only Kahrin ever saw among their peers. "There, all better, and just in time, it seems."

The incline of Laica's head over Kahrin's shoulder made her turn around just in time to see Carver come tromping over. He slouched slightly as he walked, hands shoved in the pockets of his letterman jacket, and the sight made her stomach flutter as a lopsided grin spread over her own face. It was the same flutter she got every time she mounted the starting platform. Not nerves or uncertainty, but excitement.

He bent the considerable distance to her mouth and kissed her, smiling into her lips, and when he stood up he had a reasonable amount of her clear gloss on his. She reached up and wiped it gently away with the pad of her thumb.

It had been almost a month since the party at the Howes' and the whole thing was still so clear in her mind. He'd been slow, gentle, and uncertain, and it was over far too quickly. He had, however, held her head in his arms, kept her gaze mostly, and for that connection of a few minutes they'd moved together quietly and surely.

And of course, practice improved everything. It wasn't just limited to athletics. A few days later he'd been amazingly excited to discover the whole thing was rather easy to repeat once you figured out where all the parts went and the steps, and she'd had to laugh despite herself. It had been an improvement, even if she had hit her head on the cab of the truck, and even if the bed of the pickup had been ridiculously cold. It made every place where their bodies touched light up from the sensation of warmth, and she felt the same way she had then as he reached out a hand to touch her.

"You look … amazing." Carver ran his hands from her shoulders and let them glide lightly over her arms and down to her hands. He caught one and kissed the back of it, then frowned suddenly over her shoulder. Kahrin didn't need to turn around to know what caused that look. When she'd seen the lineup for the senior court she'd thought it was a joke, but when the parade had started she realized it was not.

"That was really fast, Kahrin." He had his helmet in his hand. Given the chance to dress for senior court or dress for the game he'd chosen the game. Just like he did with everything else.

Well, most things at least. She turned around and fixed Al with a look. "Al."

"It's good to see how easily I can be replaced. Touching, really. I'm sure there's lots of that." He looked at Carver pointedly. "Does he know?"

"Do I know what?"

Al snorted. "Figures. You never change, do you, Kahrin?"

"Shut up, Al. I'm wearing nice shoes but I can still beat your ass."

"We're lining up soon. I'll see you over on the fifty." He nodded. "Hawke." Then turned and clacked down the track in his cleats with his helmet tucked under one arm.

Carver frowned at her. "What was that about?"

"He's cranky because he had to ride in a convertible and his hair got all windblown. He's very fussy about his hair. I don't know how he tolerates that helmet."

"That's not what it sounded like he was—"

"Kahrin, I don't think you've actually introduced us." Laica had a way of sensing tension and feeling the need to break it. She offered her hand for Carver to shake, smiling her most polite smile, her glittering eyeshadow catching in the stadium lights. "She has no manners sometimes. I'm Laica."

Carver awkwardly shook her hand and Kahrin breathed a slight sigh of relief, running a hand over her hair to check that it was still smoothed from her face. She pulled the front of her gown up a bit, readjusting herself in it and shaking out the skirt. "Laica's the only person who puts up with me daily."

"Not the only one," Nate's smooth voice was dripping with wry humor as he slipped an arm around Kahrin's shoulders and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "You look lovely for a change. Amazing how well you clean up." He folded something into her hand that crinkled. "The cleaning woman found these, and now thinks that Rendon has a very disturbing and illegal new hobby."

Kahrin shook her head, smirking, and took in Nate's suit. It was certainly a very _Nate_ ensemble. The shirt and tie were both black, and the … trousers were charcoal grey and tucked snugly into a pair of knee-high riding boots. Where in the world he found a leather suit jacket was beyond her, and of course he managed to pull it off. The back was longer than the front, and it was well-tailored so it didn't pull on him wrong in any place.

Naturally, he wore a top hat at a rakish angle, as if it were the sort of thing he wore every day.

"Hey, thanks. I wondered where these got off to." She laughed, then turned and pushed the zippered sandwich bag into Carver's jacket pocket. "Hold these for me, will you? Fancy dresses are sort of lacking in proper pockets."

Laica barked out with a peal of light laughter. "Oh, dear god, Kahrin, are those your-"

"I told you to stay out of Rendon's room. What is it with you and that room, Kahr?" Nate narrowed his eyes slightly, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smug smirk.

"It's the home theatre system in there. You know that," she said with a smirk. "I figured you wouldn't be needing it, anyway. You and your girl are still in the stage where you just glance at each other and write poetry back and forth, right?"

That got a scowl out of him, and he shook his head. "We all have our gifts, Kahrin. I don't question yours, and I'd thank you not to question mine."

"Of course you don't," she replied almost too breezily, before her expression turned to one of actual concern. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She had... I didn't ask her soon enough. Previous engagement." Nate shrugged and made that face that most people would chalk up to pompous indifference, but Kahrin knew better. "She said she'd try."

"Well, if she's got anything going for her, Nate, it's that she gets shit done. I know, I know, you could write me a sonnet on the rest of her qualities." She grinned cheekily, and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "Spare me. And cheer up."

Nate shook his head, but smirked, heading over towards the rest of the junior court as he called over his shoulder. "Rendon has asked that you have dinner with us Thursday. The usual routine."

Laica yelled after him. "Well, at least I know she'll eat on Thursdays. Nate, dear, you look wonderful. Did you kill the cow yourself with your hockey stick?"

Carver, silent through the previous exchange, finally pulled the plastic bag from his pocket and blushed a bit. "You left your underwear?"

"Oops," she said, absolutely unapologetically, and her right eye wrinkled up when she grinned at him. "I got a bit excited and forgot them on our way out."

"These are boy's underroos," he said, trying to stealthily examine them. "And they have … what are those?"

"Griffons. Haven't you ever read a children's storybook? I buy the boy's pajama sets because the briefs are so comfy. Better than my Speedo. I'll wear the top for you next time." She leaned up and grabbed his lips with hers, tasting her lip gloss on his mouth, and being pleased with this for some reason.

"Kahrin! Oh my God, you are going to ruin your make-up and then what will we do with you?" Laica laughed. "You can make out with your new boyfriend at the dance, I promise. Now let's go line up."

She pulled gently on Kahrin's elbow, and Kahrin was forced to let go of Carver, who was still blushing at the plastic bag in his hand, glancing up at her. "I'll, uh, just meet you here, then?" She giggled, nodding with a wave, and allowed herself to be dragged to the court.

Kahrin took her place on the track where they were lining up, waiting for the marching band to finish their portion of the halftime show. They played what sounded like a Beatles tribute show, and then the school fight song. The band split on each forty making a tunnel of sorts for them all to stand on. Kahrin rolled her eyes. She really hated these things. She had no problem with the dress or shoes, but she didn't like being the only person whose parents didn't come down to hand her things.

She did look up into the bleachers, and up by the press box she found her brother. That was a surprise. She hadn't known that Fergus had taken the night off from school. A smile broke across her face when she noticed Carver climb the bleachers and sit next to him. It made her feel good, just a little. Fergus didn't have many friends because he was always so busy, and she liked the idea that he and Carver might get on well.

Carver, on the other hand, had a family that she was sure was here. If she remembered, his twin sister was in the flag corps of the marching band. Kahrin gave a quick scan of the girls in the corps, their short jackets and knee-length skirts matching the band's uniforms, and thought that one of the taller, more slender girls with dark hair under her beret looked a bit like Carver. She couldn't be sure from this distance. She scanned the bleachers again and was pretty sure she picked his parents out of the crowd. If she remembered correctly, Carver had his father's nose. There was a tall red-haired girl sitting very close to them with a blond man who looked cozy with her, though she had no idea who they were. They clearly knew Carver's parents.

"You ready?" Al stood next to her, knocking her from her musings, and offered his arm indicating that it was time for the formalities. She rolled her eyes at him and looped her arm around his.

"You could have been nicer, you ass."

"You want me to be nicer? Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm a little bitter to hear you're with someone else after you said you had to focus on your future and didn't have room for me in it."

"It's different with him. You wouldn't understand," she shot back at him coolly.

"Have you told him about the Navy?"

"That's none of your business, Al."

"Riiiight. I didn't think so. Well, paint me surprised that you've decided you know what's better for him than he does." He narrowed his eyes at her, the Eye Black wrinkling slightly, and raised one eyebrow.

"I'm really sorry, Al."

"'Sorry' should have happened a long time ago, Kahr. If it had been that important to you, I would have found a way to make it work."

"Al, I …" she had no more to say, and the band split on the field, Al walking them to their spot next to the fifty. She plastered a huge, fake smile on her face while all of them were introduced, and it converted into a genuinely relieved smile when Laica and Al were crowned this year's queen and king.

Kahrin walked back over to the fence across from the twenty-five yard line, shivering and watching a plume of her own breath rise up through the air as she waited. She startled slightly when a heavy jacket settled on her shoulders, but she turned her nose into the collar as she looked up at Carver and inhaled.

"So, since you're not some big important queen, does that mean you are free for the dance?"

"I'd be free for you even if." She pulled the coat closer around her, then slipped her arms into the leather sleeves, warming up considerably. "Are you asking me to a dance, Carver Hawke?"

"Well, there happens to be one going on, and you're all dressed up, so I thought-"

"Hey little brother! Who's your _friend_?" The way that "friend" rolled off of the tongue of the red-haired young woman approaching them didn't sound at all like she thought they were friends. Her overly cheery voice made the phrase drip with implied meaning, and Kahrin felt her face flush under her tan skin.

"Saoirse," Carver grumbled. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"I'd _never_ miss Homecoming, favorite little brother." She reached over and gave his cheek a pinch. "This has to be the mechanic who left muffler burns on your neck. Bethany told me all about you." Saoirse winked at her. "We'll have to have a chat later, you and I. Aren't you Fergus Cousland's little sister?"

"Saoirse, go away." Carver seemed exceptionally agitated, and this was clearly a sister Kahrin didn't know he'd had.

"Oh," Kahrin stammered. "Yes, that's me … I am. Fergus is my brother … I mean …" She shoved her hands in the pockets of the jacket she was wearing, suddenly embarrassed at the zippered plastic bag in the left one.

"Oh, relax. I know your brother. He always said nice things about you. I saw him today, actually. He said you've been seeing a _lot_ of my baby brother. We should probably talk about just how much sometime." She grinned, showing her eyeteeth. "This is my boyfriend, Andy. You're Karen, right?"

"It's Kahrin, Sisi, and you know it. Now, go away, we're busy." His scowl turned down harder across his whole face.

"Oh, I bet you are. Well, Carver, I'll see you at home, and Kahrin," she smiled, "we'll see you tomorrow for dinner, right?"

"What?" Kahrin blinked at her. She was not ever a person to be caught off guard, but she didn't meet families. "Oh, I have a swim meet, so I'm not sure if-"

"Great! We'll all come then, won't we Carver?" She slugged her brother on the arm, and he actually winced. "Okies! Well, then, ta ta, you two kids!" Saoirse slid her fingers in-between Andy's and they turned and walked away.

Kahrin and Carver stood, him looking down at her apologetically, and she looking up at him in disbelief.

"So, should we go to the dance and pretend the last five minutes just didn't happen? My stupid sisters. I didn't know … let's just go, OK?"

"Dear God, yes, please." He was wearing dress pants. She wasn't about to waste a night of him wearing nice pants. She let him put an arm around her waist and they walked up towards the gym. The DJ was playing Aerosmith, so the night wasn't a total loss so far.


	9. Things Happen

"So what's bothering you?" Laica asked Kahrin, handing the single cigarette to her. Neither of them exactly smoked. Once in a while they would share one at parties, or during moments like this. "It's not like you to want to ditch class."

They sat on the hood of Laica's green VW beetle, and Kahrin looked dazedly forward. They were surrounded by a copse of birch and pine trees just off the dirt road. It was about a mile behind an old barn where some of the other Juniors liked to hang out on the weekends. It was nearly never hit by cops, so it was a great place for drinking.

"I just … can't take being there today. It's not like I am going to miss any scouts. It's just practice." She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her dark hair, passing the half-used cigarette back.

Laica raised a well-groomed eyebrow at her, took a long drag off of the cigarette and snuffed it out, waving the smoke away so they wouldn't smell too bad. "That's not like you. Do you want to talk about it?" She twirled a strand of her own hair, as pale as Kahrin's was dark, around a finger.

No one ever expected that Laica thought about anyone except for herself, which was entirely untrue. She was funny and kind and wicked smart, but no one ever seemed to see past the exterior. In truth, she was pretty much the only person whom Kahrin ever trusted, next to Nate. Nate, however, was the wrong person to be having this conversation with. Possibly. At least, it was too early to have this conversation with him.

"Not really," Kahrin nearly lost the words when she said them. Swallowing once she reached a hand into her swim bag and pulled out a zippered sandwich bag. She handed it to Laica without meeting her eyes. "But I think I am going to have to, don't you?"

When Laica relieved her of the bag Kahrin buried her face in her hands and raked them back through her hair again.

Laica was silent for a while, save the sound of air sucking in over her teeth.

"Kahrin … this is … it's blue."

"I know." She didn't bother looking up. "That little plus sign is so unholy."

"When? How … Oh my god, Kahrin. You … I thought you and Nate weren't …"

"We aren't. We're not … I mean it was just …" she grunted exasperatedly. "We were at another one of Rendon's fabulous dinner parties." She rolled her eyes. "Mom and Dad were playing cribbage," she laughed, because the thought of Rendon lowering himself to card games was actually hilarious. "Fergus was … I don't know where. We were up using the good sound system in Rendon's room. We were bored. And then …"

"And?" She prompted her gently, trying to get her to get it out without being pushy.

"There was a lot of PBR involved. I don't know how we didn't get busted. It just … seemed like a good idea." That was a trip. Who decides they are bored and that sex is the obvious answer and _then_ gets drunk?

"Kahrin," Laica started carefully. She had a way of broaching these things without being judgmental. "Didn't you use anything?"

"Of course we did." Kahrin snorted. "It isn't like I didn't get an A in banana wrapping in health." She was also on the pill, but that didn't seem to matter at the moment. "Things happen."

"Things happen," Laica agreed solemnly. She leaned over and rubbed Kahrin's back companionably. "What are you going to do?"

"What am I going to do? Laica, I can not have a baby."

"Clearly. Kahrin, you can't even remember to feed yourself." She gave her a nudge, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked. Kahrin laughed for a moment. "True. I hear you have to feed them every day."

"That's the rumor." Laica was quiet for a while again, turning the sandwich bag over in her hand. "Here," she said, handing it back. "You peed on this. I don't want it. I take it we're going to Indiana, then?"

She thought for several beats before replying. "You would do that for me? You'd go with me?"

"Of course I would. You don't even have to ask. Though … might I make a suggestion?"

Kahrin looked at her with a dead calm she didn't truly feel. "I can't tell my parents. I mean, they would totally help, but …"

"This is something you have to do on your own." Sometimes Laica got her without even trying.

"Something like that."

"I understand. Are you going to tell Nate?"

"Do you think I should?"

"You know him better than I do."

Kahrin thought about it for a long time, leaning her head on Laica's shoulder. "True. I think …" He had a promising career ahead of him if he could stop beating people with skates. He was one of the few people she knew who had a shot at a professional spot. "I think that he is pragmatic. He also cares about me."

"You've been friends a long time."

"Our whole lives."

"Then, if you trust him, tell him. If not, we'll deal with it."

"What would I do without you?"

Laica pulled Kahrin's hair into her hands and began braiding it with quick fingers. "Never fit into your prom dress. That's for sure."

"Well. At least we have our priorities straight." Somehow, the weight seemed gone from her shoulders.

"You're going to be all right, Kahrin. You know that, right?"

"I do now." They sat in quiet and stared off into the trees in front of them. Kahrin yawned. She hadn't slept in a few days. Someone in the cosmos thought it was funny if she spent her nights throwing up instead. "Laica?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you."

"That's what friends do, darling. We're there for one another."


	10. No Regrets

"Good luck, darling." Laica gave Kahrin an encouraging smile as she got out of the beetle. "Call me if … well anything."

Nodding with more confidence than she felt, she closed the door. Chewing on the inside of her mouth she carried the two cups of coffee with her and sat on the hood of Nate's Gremlin in the parking lot. Practice, she was sure, had just let out, and Nate never showered at the arena. She wouldn't have to wait long. She wasn't sure yet if that was a good or a bad thing.

It was going to be fine, she kept telling herself. He was her friend. They were too young, and they weren't … anything more. Still, she had a small niggling feeling of doubt and nerves that made her belly flip over the more she thought about it. They'd never fought, or disagreed on anything. Though, until six weeks ago, they'd also never had sex.

She spaced out for a few minutes, rehearsing what she was going to say in her head. She hadn't noticed him walk up behind her, and dumped half of her black coffee on the front of her shirt.

"Shit. Oh, shit. I'm …" She began a futile effort to mop it off of herself, shaking and dumping the rest of the cup on the ground in front of her.

"Kahr?" Nate looked at her with one eyebrow pulled up. "You all right? I didn't mean to … here." He pulled his practice jersey off and held it out to her. He took the other cup from her and held it, protecting the preciously warm beverage from her. He tossed his hockey bag on the ground and slid up onto the hood next to her.

She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, still swearing a bit. She traded it for the jersey, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her hands up the opposite sleeves. It was more like a dress on her than a shirt.

"Thanks. I brought you coffee, but … I see you already figured that out."

"And decided to wear yours. Very creative." He took a sip of the still-hot beverage, then handed it to her to share. "Caramel latte."

"Your favorite." She took a sip, closing her eyes. It was too sweet for her, but it calmed her all the same. She sat quietly for a few moments. One of the things she had always liked about their friendship was that they didn't have to speak. They could often just sit for hours, quietly. There was never any pressure to fill the quiet.

"You know me too well. I suppose I should start changing it up a bit." Taking the cup back from her, he took another drink. "You never come here. To what do I owe the pleasure? You could have brought me coffee at Rendon's."

"I come to all of your games," she retorted. "I …" She looked around the parking lot. "Not here. Can we … would you just … drive somewhere? Anywhere?"

He paused, the coffee halfway to his mouth. "Of course." Hopping neatly down off of the car with all the grace of a figure skater, he tossed his bag into the back and held the door for her.

She stayed quiet the whole of the trip, watching the trees pass by in a green and white blur. She let her face rest against the cool glass.

"Are you all right?" He glanced at her, concerned. He signaled and turned up the driveway, stopping to punch the buttons for the massive iron gate. "You're awfully quiet, Kahrin." His brow knit together as he waited for the gate to slide aside.

She shrugged slightly, letting one shoulder lift and then fall. "Lot on my mind. I guess."

Pulling into his spot in the garage, he turned the ignition to just the radio. He interlocked his finger behind his head and leaned back against the seat. The quiet was his way of leaving the conversation open for her. They'd been friends since they were infants. They'd napped in the same playpen and cut their teeth on the same toys. He knew that if she was going to talk, she would. If she wasn't, there was no forcing it.

"I have to tell you something," she said it so quietly that Ugly Kid Joe nearly covered it.

He turned his head just enough to look at her. "You know that isn't a problem."

Working her jaw several times, she formed the words and swallowed them. This shouldn't have been difficult. There was never anything she couldn't or wouldn't tell him. It was just another problem to tell her best friend. He would listen and … she was kidding herself. This was not the same thing.

"Nate … I … um." She stumbled over it a few moments. "I'm pregnant," she finally choked out. It filled her stomach with dread at the very same instant that it felt better to get it off of her chest.

He didn't move or so much as flinch. She listened as he took in a deep breath, then let it out.

"Not … what I expected you to say."

"Not something I ever thought I would say."

They sat in silence for a long time, the car radio the only sound. Some top forty station playing song she didn't particularly care about. She liked music, though, and it kept the silence from crushing them.

Finally, he reached over and took one of her hands. It was a simple enough gesture, and it seemed the least he could do. "So. What do you want to do?"

She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from crying. "Nate," she started slowly. "We're sixteen." She squeezed his hand back.

"So, we're going to Indiana. Not a problem." She looked up at him as he rolled his head back at the ceiling. "We have a school break coming up. I'll tell Rendon we're going to Cedar Point."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." He pulled her by the shoulders under his arm. "We're friends, Kahrin. You'd do the same for me."

She didn't bother reminding him that she couldn't do the same for him.

"Maybe, next time we're bored, we just get a Pay Per View movie. Or go for a polar bear swim." She pushed her face into his long john top, laughing against his chest.

He chuckled in that gravely voice of his, and kissed the crown of her head. "Duly noted. Though," he paused over the words for a few moments. "I don't regret it." He said it quietly in her ear as if someone might hear him.

She was glad it had been him.

"Thank you."

"Of course.


	11. Recovery

"Hey, you," the voice sounded distant and tinny as she swam into consciousness.

Kahrin didn't know how long she had been out, but her mouth was dry. She must have had it open while she slept in recovery. Blinking against the lights it took her a few moments to realize that it was Nate speaking to her, and that he was holding her hand. They must have let him in after the procedure. She'd been terrified to go without him, and he furious from being refused the privilege of accompanying her. _Security_, they had told him simply. With the mobs of protestors outside the procedure room was restricted to patients and staff only.

His face was pulled into tight bunches of concern around his eyes as he regarded her, though it didn't take away from his austere look. How someone could look both harsh and kind at the same time, she never understood, but he managed to pull it off.

She swallowed hard and tried to sit up, her head lolling slightly and her arms refusing to work. He caught her head and helped her to sitting.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was gravelly though she could hear the tenderness in it.

"Mmm." She started and had to swallow again. "Like someone filled the pool with concrete. Then the room here with jell-o." For some reason that seemed funny, and she had to repress a giggle. Nate didn't look at all as if he were in a mood for humor. That made it oddly funnier, and the laugh finally bubbled its way out.

His mouth pulled into a tight line. It wasn't clear to her if he was irritated or worried. "Let's get you dressed."

He handed her the jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt she'd worn in. Kahrin fumbled trying to untie the gown she wore, repeatedly missing the ties. With a sigh that sounded more worry than aggravation he did it for her.

"Lucky for me I have no shame," Kahrin giggled again, and then swallowed it back. "Huh. I think the meds they gave me … I'm not feeling quite right."

"No, I can't imagine you are," he said lowly to her. "The nurse said they gave you a heavy dose of diazepam. To help you relax for the procedure. I was … worried. I think they finally told me things to get me to calm down."

She smirked. The man who had tried to beat another hockey player with his own skate acting aggressively angry about being denied information? That was so far beyond her scope of imagination, she thought sarcastically.

"You? A temper. Perish the thought," she jibed facetiously.

"Indeed," his reply was wry.

He helped her get her underwear on, leaning her slightly against him so he could let her lift her hips to shimmy into them. Holding her jeans open, she slid her feet in and moved to stand.

Her knees buckled as soon as she made contact with the floor and he had to hop forward to catch her before she planted her face against the tiles.

"Thanks," she muttered. "For being here."

"Where else would I be, Kahr? Jeez. What did you think you were going to do alone?" He slid her pants back up over her hips and helped her with the belt buckle before pulling her into his lap. "I am glad that you told me, and that I could be here."

"Laica would have come with me." She shrugged simply. "Still, thank you. That's too tight," she nearly whimpered. She felt bloated and the ghost of cramping coming on as the effects of the medication waned.

"I figured as much. That's what friends do, Kahrin," he said sternly as if there were no room for discussion on the matter. Adjusting the belt out one more notch and undoing the button for good measure, he pressed his lips against her hair. "Can you walk?"

Nodding she stood up slowly, carefully, using his shoulders for support to slide her clogs on. "They said I can't swim for a week. I have no idea how I am going to get out of that one."

"You will not swim for a week, is how you will handle it." His face pulled with worry again, then softened. "I apologize. That was not meant to sound like an order." Putting his arm gently around her waist he helped her walk to the reception area, holding the heavy door for her while they buzzed them past the security point. The nurse looked up through the bulletproof glass and passed Nate her discharge paperwork. "Don't give me that look, Kahrin. I know you. If they said no swimming, then no swimming."

"You sound just like your father when you talk like that, you know." She managed a grin at him, though she had to lean against him to look up. "Perhaps you are his son after all."

He face lit slightly with a bit of mirth. "He likes to think so. I can't wait to see his face when I register Democrat." Looking towards the clinic door and then back at her, he pulled his windbreaker over her like a tent to shield her from onlookers. "Come," he said mildly, guiding her along.

"Where are we going?" She groggily leaned most of her weight against him as the escort unlocked the door to let them out, following carefully behind them. Kahrin winced when people started yelling at them as they made their way along the walkway towards the parking lot. The two of them managed to ignore the chanting and moralizing along the way. There was no shame in what they'd done, but still, it stung to hear the things the protestors called them as the walked by.

Nate helped her settle into the Gremlin and buckled her in. "I got us a room for the night. I know they said you were fine, but you need to rest. I am not taking you home like this. We will reassess tomorrow, and decide if we need another day."

"Our parents-"

"Think we have gone to Cedar Point for the weekend. Rendon was ecstatic with the idea of the arrangement."

"You took care of everything," she lifted an eyebrow at him as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "I can't picture Rendon ecstatic about anything. Except maybe crushing some lesser mortal in some merger or acquisition."

"In a way, that is how he sees this. If only he knew." Nate let a short laugh as pulled out of the parking lot and turned towards the on ramp for I-69. "This is what friends do, Kahrin. It is what I came for. Get used to it. I'll always be here for you.


	12. Chapter 9

The nearly scalding water felt good as Kahrin peeled her suit off. Untwisting her hair she lathered up a squirt of soap and scrubbed it into her hair. Rinsing the smell of chlorine off and wringing out her mop of hair she shut off the shower. Her feet slapped across the wet tiles of the locker room floor.

Kahrin was not a fan of families. She didn't like meeting parents and plastering on a smile and feeling like she was being evaluated. Her family was gone and what was left was broken. Nate's was … well the Howe's were not normal by any definition. Carver had two parents and siblings. They seemed nice and loving and … _alive_.

The last part made her frown slightly.

It was odd to see all of them lined up in the back of the natatorium. She'd looked up from the starting block to find him like she always did. He was there, Nate was there, and so were all of Carver's family. His mother, with her hair going grey, his father who had bright ginger hair and of course his sisters, whom she recognized.

She froze in place when she stepped out of the locker room, watching her docs splash through the remnants of the meet. She nearly smacked into Carver's twin and looked up mortified.

"Oh … uh. I … sorry."

"Oh, my god. I was beginning to think you didn't really exist. I've been calling you Carver's imaginary girlfriend for weeks. I'm Bethany." Before Kahrin could stop her or read the girl launched herself onto her in a tight hug. She wasn't a particularly big person, not compared to her brother, but she towered over Kahrin.

"Uh, yeah. I … I know who you are," she squeaked out politely. They did go to the same school.

"Beths, knock it off. God." Carver ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "I'm sorry," he grumbled at Kahrin, who managed to not look completely bewildered.

"It's fine," she managed, shrugging.

"Whatever. You've never brought a girl home before. I'm allowed to get excited." She stuck her tongue out at Carver with a sideways cock of her head. The effect was not unlike the way that she'd seen Carver look when he was razzing players from the other team at his games. It made Kahrin grin a bit.

"What?" he asked her.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Are we going?"

"Yeah. We're going. As soon as _Bethany_ goes with Mom and Dad. There's no room in the truck."

"Oh. Oh I get it." Bethany's voice dripped with innuendo as she spun around on the toe of her tall boot. "You want to be alone." She drew out the last word in such a way that it made Kahrin flush a bit.

She didn't know what there was to flush about, yet it still happened.

Wide eyed and nearly silent she rode beside him on the center seat of the truck to his house. It was a considerably longer ride than she'd expected, and tried not to look too surprised when they turned off of the paved road and slowed on the dirt and gravel.

"You live on a farm. How did I not know that?" She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You never asked," he replied casually. "This is a farm truck. You never noticed that it smelled like-"

"Straw." She smacked her forehead. "It didn't occur to me."

"You just thought I was smelly?"

"Pretty much."

He put his arm around her and hugged her close.

"Two hands on the wheel, cowboy."

He squeezed harder and managed to get his hand on the wheel. "Better?"

"Mfch," she muttered into his armpit.

The inside of the house was charmingly cluttered. The mud room was overflowing with shoes from muddy rubbers to a pair of white marching shoes. The wall had endless pegs in it, with several pairs of skates hanging from the knotted laces. The washer and dryer were right there, with a giant utility sink that was large enough she could have bathed in it. Slipping her Crocs off she followed Carver tentatively through the large kitchen which smelled like bread.

The grey-haired woman standing over the sink peeling potatoes turned to smile at her, making her balk slightly. She stood stiffly, afraid of standing too close or too far away from Carver.

"You must be Kahrin." Her voice was pleasant as she wiped her hand on a dish towel and held it out to her. "My name is Leandra." She tutted at her briefly, and for a moment Kahrin though of her own mother's tsking. "Oh, dear, isn't it a little cold to be running around outside with wet hair?"

Kahrin ran a hand over the knotted bun on the back of her head. It took hours to dry her hair. Not knowing what to say she simply smiled with tight lips.

"Mother!"

"What? It is cold. If she gets sick out there from wet hair, then you'll get sick and bring it home and soon we'll all be passing it back and forth, and then Soirse will take it back to school and she has finals."

"Yeah! I have finals," the chipper voice called from a flight of stairs before the tall redhead appeared in the kitchen. "Hey you. Baby brother. We're so glad you could make it. I was hoping you didn't have more muffler problems on the way." She grinned wickedly

Kahrin felt her face go hot.

"Oh, has the truck been giving you trouble, Carver?" Leandra gave him a look of concern. "Tell your father so he can get it fixed this weekend."

"Sisi!" Carver growled and slapped a hand over his face. "No, Mother, the truck is fine."

"Yeah, I don't think it is necessarily troublesome to him," Saoirse giggled before turning on her toes. "We're all in the den watching Dad and Andy try to play Halo. It's fun. Actually it's fun_ny_. You should come in."

Carver stopped to wash his hands at the sink. "Need any help?"

Leandra looked over her shoulder at Kahrin, who looked absolutely lost in the middle of the kitchen. "No, dear. You go on ahead. I've just checked the roast. It won't be long."

"All right. Hey," he called to Kahrin. "Let's go show my dad how it's done." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he nearly dragged her into the next room.

Feeling like the rug had been yanked out from under her, Kahrin followed him. For once she had nothing to say.


End file.
